In the great journal of things happening under the sun, we, the
American People, find our account running under date of the nineteenth
century of the Christian era.--We find ourselves in the peaceful
possession of the fairest portion of the earth, as regards extent of
territory, fertility of soil, and salubrity of climate. We find
ourselves under the government of a system of political institutions
conducing more essentially to the ends of civil and religious liberty
than any of which the history of former times tells us. We, when
mounting the stage of existence, found ourselves the legal inheritors
of these fundamental blessings. We toiled not in the acquirement or
establishment of them--they are a legacy bequeathed us by a once hardy,
brave, and patriotic, but now lamented and departed, race of ancestors.
Theirs was the task (and nobly they performed it) to possess
themselves, and through themselves us, of this goodly land, and to
uprear upon its hills and its valleys a political edifice of liberty
and equal rights; 'tis ours only to transmit these, the former
unprofaned by the foot of an invader; the latter undecayed by the lapse
of time and untorn by usurpation--to the latest generation that fate
shall permit the world to know. This task gratitude to our fathers,
justice to ourselves, duty to posterity, and love for our species in
general, all imperatively require us faithfully to perform.
How, then, shall we perform it?--At what point shall we expect the
approach of danger? By what means shall we fortify against it? Shall
we expect some transatlantic military giant to step the ocean and crush
us at a blow? Never!--All the armies of Europe, Asia, and Africa
combined, with all the treasure of the earth (our own excepted) in
their military chest, with a Buonaparte for a commander, could not by
force take a drink from the Ohio or make a track on the Blue Ridge in a
trial of a thousand years.
At what point then is the approach of danger to be expected? I answer,
If it ever reach us it must spring up amongst us. It cannot come from
abroad. If destruction be our lot, we must ourselves be its author and
finisher. As a nation of freemen we must live through all time, or die
by suicide.
I hope I am over wary; but if I am not, there is, even now, something
of ill omen amongst us. I mean the increasing disregard for law which
pervades the country; the growing disposition to substitute the wild
and furious passions in lieu of the sober judgment of courts; and the
worse than savage mobs, for the executive ministers of justice. This
disposition is awfully fearful in any community; and that it now exists
in ours, though grating to our feelings to admit, it would be a
violation of truth and an insult to our intelligence to deny. Accounts
of outrages committed by mobs form the every-day news of the times.
They have pervaded the country from New England to Louisiana;--they are
neither peculiar to the eternal snows of the former nor the burning
suns of the latter; they are not the creature of climate, neither are
they confined to the slave-holding or the non-slave-holding states.
Alike they spring up among the pleasure-hunting masters of Southern
slaves, and the order-loving citizens of the land of steady
habits.--Whatever, then, their cause may be, it is common to the whole
country.
It would be tedious as well as useless to recount the horrors of all of
them. Those, happening in the State of Mississippi and at St. Louis
are, perhaps, the most dangerous in example and revolting to humanity.
In the Mississippi case they first commenced by hanging the regular
gamblers--a set of men certainly not following for a livelihood a very
useful or very honest occupation; but one which, so far from being
forbidden by the laws, was actually licensed by an act of the
Legislature passed but a single year before. Next negroes suspected of
conspiring to raise an insurrection were caught up and hanged in all
parts of the State; then, white men supposed to be leagued with the
negroes; and finally, strangers from neighboring States, going thither
on business, were, in many instances, subjected to the same fate. Thus
went on this process of hanging, from gamblers to negroes, from negroes
to white citizens, and from these to strangers, till dead men were seen
literally dangling from the boughs of trees upon every roadside, and in
numbers almost sufficient to rival the native Spanish moss of the
country, as a drapery of the forest.
Turn, then, to that horror-striking scene at St. Louis. A single
victim only was sacrificed there. This story is very short, and is
perhaps the most highly tragic of anything of its length that has ever
been witnessed in real life. A mulatto man by the name of McIntosh was
seized in the street, dragged to the suburbs of the city, chained to a
tree, and actually burned to death; and all within a single hour from
the time he had been a freeman, attending to his own business and at
peace with the world.
Such are the effects of mob law, and such are the scenes becoming more
and more frequent in this land so lately famed for love of law and
order, and the stories of which have even now grown too familiar to
attract anything more than an idle remark.
But you are perhaps ready to ask, "What has this to do with the
perpetuation of our political institutions?" I answer, it has much to
do with it. Its direct consequences are, comparatively speaking, but a
small evil, and much of its danger consists in the proneness of our
minds to regard its direct as its only consequences. Abstractly
considered, the hanging of the gamblers at Vicksburg was of but little
consequence. They constitute a portion of population that is worse
than useless in any community; and their death, if no pernicious
example be set by it, is never matter of reasonable regret with any
one. If they were annually swept from the stage of existence by the
plague or small-pox, honest men would perhaps be much profited by the
operation.--Similar too is the correct reasoning in regard to the
burning of the negro at St. Louis. He had forfeited his life by the
perpetration of an outrageous murder upon one of the most worthy and
respectable citizens of the city, and had he not died as he did, he
must have died by the sentence of the law in a very short time
afterwards. As to him alone, it was as well the way it was as it could
otherwise have been. But the example in either case was fearful. When
men take it in their heads to-day to hang gamblers or burn murderers,
they should recollect that in the confusion usually attending such
transactions they will be as likely to hang or burn some one who is
neither a gambler nor a murderer as one who is, and that, acting upon
the example they set, the mob of to-morrow may, and probably will, hang
or burn some of them by the very same mistake. And not only so; the
innocent, those who have ever set their faces against violations of law
in every shape, alike with the guilty fall victims to the ravages of
mob law; and thus it goes on, step by step, till all the walls erected
for the defence of the persons and property of individuals are trodden
down and disregarded. But all this, even, is not the full extent of
the evil. By such examples, by instances of the perpetrators of such
acts going unpunished, the lawless in spirit are encouraged to become
lawless in practice; and having been used to no restraint but dread of
punishment, they thus become absolutely unrestrained. Having ever
regarded government as their deadliest bane, they make a jubilee of the
suspension of its operations, and pray for nothing so much as its total
annihilation. While, on the other hand, good men, men who love
tranquillity, who desire to abide by the laws and enjoy their benefits,
who would gladly spill their blood in the defence of their country,
seeing their property destroyed, their families insulted, and their
lives endangered, their persons injured, and seeing nothing in prospect
that forebodes a change for the better, become tired of and disgusted
with a government that offers them no protection, and are not much
averse to a change, in which they imagine they have nothing to lose.
Thus, then, by the operation of this mobocratic spirit which all must
admit is now abroad in the land, the strongest bulwark of any
government, and particularly of those constituted like ours, may
effectually be broken down and destroyed--I mean the _attachment_ of
the people. Whenever this effect shall be produced among us; whenever
the vicious portion of population shall be permitted to gather in bands
of hundreds and thousands and burn churches, ravage and rob
provision-stores, throw printing-presses into rivers, shoot editors,
and hang and burn obnoxious persons at pleasure and with impunity,
depend on it, this government cannot last. By such things the feelings
of the best citizens will become more or less alienated from it, and
thus it will be left without friends, or with too few, and those few
too weak to make their friendship effectual. At such a time, and under
such circumstances, men of sufficient talent and ambition will not be
wanting to seize the opportunity, strike the blow, and overturn that
fair fabric which for the last half century as been the fondest hope of
the lovers of freedom throughout the world.
I know the American People are much attached to their government; I
know they would suffer much for its sake; I know they would endure
evils long and patiently before they would ever think of exchanging it
for another. Yet, notwithstanding all this, if the laws be continually
despised and disregarded, if their rights to be secure in their persons
and property are held by no better tenure than the caprice of a mob,
the alienation of their affections from the government is the natural
consequence; and to that, sooner or later, it must come.
Here, then, is one point at which danger may be expected.
The question recurs, "How shall we fortify against it?" The answer is
simple. Let every American, every lover of liberty, every well-wisher
to his posterity swear by the blood of the Revolution never to violate
in the least particular the laws of the country, and never to tolerate
their violation by others. As the patriots of seventy-six did to the
support of the Declaration of Independence, so to the support of the
Constitution and Laws let every American pledge his life, his property,
and his sacred honor:--let every man remember that to violate the law
is to trample on the blood of his father, and to tear the charter of
his own and his children's liberty. Let reverence for the laws be
breathed by every American mother to the lisping babe that prattles on
her lap; let it be taught in schools, in seminaries, and in colleges;
let it be written in primers, spelling books, and in almanacs; let it
be preached from the pulpit, proclaimed in legislative halls, and
enforced in courts of justice. And, in short, let it become the
political religion of the nation; and let the old and the young, the
rich and the poor, the grave and the gay of all sexes and tongues and
colors and conditions, sacrifice unceasingly upon its altars.
While ever a state of feeling such as this shall universally or even
very generally prevail throughout the nation, vain will be every
effort, and fruitless every attempt, to subvert our national freedom.
When I so pressingly urge a strict observance of all the laws, let me
not be understood as saying there are no bad laws, or that grievances
may not arise for the redress of which no legal provisions have been
made. I mean to say no such thing. But I do mean to say that although
bad laws, if they exist, should be repealed as soon as possible, still
they continue in force, for the sake of example they should be
religiously observed. So also in unprovided cases. If such arise, let
proper legal provisions be made for them with the least possible delay,
but, till then, let them, if not too intolerable, be borne with.
There is no grievance that is a fit object of redress by mob law. In
any case that may arise, as, for instance, the promulgation of
abolitionism, one of two positions is necessarily true--that is, the
thing is right within itself, and therefore deserves the protection of
all law and all good citizens, or, it is wrong, and therefore proper to
be prohibited by legal enactments; and in neither case is the
interposition of mob law either necessary, justifiable, or excusable.
But it may be asked, why suppose danger to our political institutions?
Have we not preserved them for more than fifty years? And why may we
not for fifty times as long?
We hope there is _no sufficient_ reason. We hope all dangers may be
overcome; but to conclude that no danger may ever arise would itself be
extremely dangerous. There are now, and will hereafter be, many
causes, dangerous in their tendency, which have not existed heretofore,
and which are not too insignificant to merit attention. That our
government should have been maintained in its original form, from its
establishment until now, is not much to be wondered at. It had many
props to support it through that period, which now are decayed and
crumbled away. Through that period it was felt by all to be an
undecided experiment; now it is understood to be a successful
one.--Then, all that sought celebrity and fame and distinction expected
to find them in the success of that experiment. Their _all_ was staked
upon it; their destiny was _inseparably_ linked with it. Their
ambition aspired to display before an admiring world a practical
demonstration of the truth of a proposition which had hitherto been
considered at best no better than problematical--namely, _the
capability of a people to govern themselves_. If they succeeded they
were to be immortalized; their names were to be transferred to
counties, and cities, and rivers, and mountains; and to be revered and
sung, toasted through all time. If they failed, they were to be called
knaves, and fools, and fanatics for a fleeting hour; then to sink and
be forgotten. They succeeded. The experiment is successful, and
thousands have won their deathless names in making it so. But the game
is caught; and I believe it is true that with the catching end the
pleasures of the chase. This field of glory is harvested, and the crop
is already appropriated. But new reapers will arise, and _they_ too
will seek a field. It is to deny what the history of the world tells
us is true, to suppose that men of ambition and talents will not
continue to spring up amongst us. And, when they do, they will as
naturally seek the gratification of their ruling passion as others have
done before them. The question then is, Can that gratification be
found in supporting and maintaining an edifice that has been erected by
others? Most certainly it cannot. Many great and good men,
sufficiently qualified for any task they should undertake, may ever be
found whose ambition would aspire to nothing beyond a seat in Congress,
a gubernatorial or a presidential chair; but _such belong not to the
family of the lion, or the tribe of the eagle_. What! think you these
places would satisfy an Alexander, a Caesar, or a Napoleon? Never!
Towering genius disdains a beaten path. It seeks regions hitherto
unexplored. It sees no distinction in adding story to story upon the
monuments of fame erected to the memory of others. It _denies_ that it
is glory enough to serve under any chief. It _scorns_ to tread in the
footsteps of _any_ predecessor, however illustrious. It thirsts and
burns for distinction; and if possible, it will have it, whether at the
expense of emancipating slaves or enslaving freemen. Is it
unreasonable then, to expect that some man possessed of the loftiest
genius, coupled with ambition sufficient to push it to its utmost
stretch, will at some time spring up among us? And when such a one
does, it will require the people to be united with each other, attached
to the government and laws, and generally intelligent, to successfully
frustrate his designs.
Distinction will be his paramount object, and, although he would as
willingly, perhaps more so, acquire it by doing good as harm, yet, that
opportunity being past, and nothing left to be done in the way of
building up, he would set boldly to the task of pulling down.
Here then is a probable case, highly dangerous, and such an one as
could have well existed heretofore.
Another reason which _once was_, but which, to the same extent, is _now
no more_, has done much in maintaining our institutions thus far, I
mean the powerful influence which the interesting scenes of the
Revolution had upon the _passions_ of the people as distinguished from
their judgment. By this influence, the jealousy, envy, and avarice
incident to our nature, and so common to a state of peace, prosperity,
and conscious strength, were for the time in a great measure smothered
and rendered inactive, while the deep-rooted principles of _hate_, and
the powerful motive of _revenge_, instead of being turned against each
other, were directed exclusively against the British nation. And thus,
from the force of circumstances, the basest principles of our nature
were either made to lie dormant, or to become the active agents in the
advancement of the noblest of causes--that of establishing and
maintaining civil and religious liberty.
But this state of feeling _must fade, is fading, has faded_, with the
circumstances that produced it.
I do not mean to say that the scenes of the Revolution _are now_ or
_ever will be_ entirely forgotten, but that, like everything else, they
must fade upon the memory of the world, and grow more and more dim by
the lapse of time. In history, we hope, they will be read of, and
recounted, so long as the Bible shall be read; but even granting that
they will, their influence _cannot_ be what it heretofore has been.
Even then they _cannot_ be so universally known nor so vividly felt as
they were by the generation just gone to rest. At the close of that
struggle, nearly every adult male had been a participator in some of
its scenes. The consequence was that of those scenes, in the form of a
husband, a father, a son, or a brother, a _living history_ was to be
found in every family--a history bearing the indubitable testimonies of
its own authenticity, in the limbs mangled, in the scars of wounds
received, in the midst of the very scenes related--a history, too, that
could be read and understood alike by all, the wise and the ignorant,
the learned and the unlearned.--But _those_ histories are gone. They
can be read no more forever. They _were_ a fortress of strength; but
what invading foeman could _never do_, the silent artillery of time
_has done_--the levelling of its walls. They are gone. They _were_ a
forest of giant oaks; but the all-restless hurricane has swept over
them, and left only here and there a lonely trunk, despoiled of its
verdure, shorn of its foliage, unshading and unshaded, to murmur in a
few more gentle breezes, and to combat with its mutilated limbs a few
more ruder storms, then to sink and be no more.
They _were_ pillars of the temple of liberty; and now that they have
crumbled away that temple must fall unless we, their descendants,
supply their places with other pillars, hewn from the solid quarry of
sober reason. Passion has helped us, but can do so no more. It will
in future be our enemy. Reason--cold, calculating, unimpassioned
reason--must furnish all the materials for our future support and
defence. Let those materials be moulded into _general intelligence,
sound morality_, and, in particular, _a reverence for the Constitution
and laws_; and that we improved to the last, that we remained free to
the last, that we revered his name to the last, that during his long
sleep we permitted no hostile foot to pass over or desecrate his
resting-place, shall be that which to learn the last trump shall awaken
our WASHINGTON.
Upon these let the proud fabric of freedom rest, as the rock of its
basis, and, as truly as has been said of the only greater institution,
"_the gates of hell shall not prevail against it_."